The Right Place at the Right Time
by Deana
Summary: Aramis manages to get into trouble even on their day off. Entry for the March 'Fête des Mousquetaires' contest!
**The Right Place at the Right Time
** A Musketeer story by Deana

Entry for the March 'Fête des Mousquetaires' contest!

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"Are you serious?"

"Of course."

Aramis looked at Athos. "Did you hear that? Porthos thinks that he can beat me in a race."

Athos shook his head. "I think not."

Aramis threw a triumphant look at Porthos, while Porthos frowned at Athos.

" _Neither_ of you would win," said Athos. "My horse is faster than _both_ of yours."

Aramis' grin vanished and Porthos laughed.

"Let's see about that, then!" said Aramis, as he kicked his horse into a gallop.

Athos and Porthos did the same, and it indeed appeared that Aramis would win, until both Athos and Porthos got ahead of him, riding neck-to-neck until they finally stopped.

"Haha!" Porthos exclaimed, as he turned to Aramis. "You lost!"

But Aramis wasn't there.

Athos and Porthos both looked around, before Athos suddenly pointed, and they both watched in shock as Aramis rode towards a horse and cart in the distance that had gone off the road and was heading straight for a cliff.

There was a woman at the reins, screaming.

Athos and Porthos quickly kicked their horses into a gallop, both of them knowing that they'd never arrive in time to help.

Aramis pulled up alongside the cart and pulled his left leg over his horses' head before taking his right boot out of its stirrup and throwing himself into the cart. He quickly scrambled onto the seat and grabbed the reins from the woman, pulling with all of his might to stop them, but something had apparently spooked the horses and they refused to respond.

Aramis looked ahead at the cliff and judged that he had enough time to separate the cart's bed from the horses, so he quickly scrambled back behind the seat and took out his pistol, banging the bolt until it came loose enough for him to pull it out. The cart safely detached behind them and its momentum slowed immediately.

The woman continued to scream as the horses approached the cliff, and she quickly slid to the edge of the seat in a desperate attempt to jump, but Aramis grabbed her first, wrapped his arms around her body, and threw them both off it together, where they hit the ground and rolled along the grass.

Athos and Porthos both noticed with alarm that when Aramis and the woman came to a stop, Aramis didn't get up.

The woman continued to scream, eventually trying to push Aramis off her body. By then, Athos and Porthos had arrived and dismounted. Athos rolled Aramis off the woman and checked him for injuries while Porthos tried to calm her.

"Shh, shh, it's all right, you're safe," Porthos told her, holding her gently when she collapsed against his chest, shaking. He nervously looked over at Aramis. "How is he?" he asked Athos.

"Out cold," Athos told him. "He hit his head on something…a rock, most likely," he said, holding his handkerchief against a bleeding cut on the side of Aramis' head.

Porthos sighed. "Even during a day off, he manages to get himself into trouble!"

"He saved my life!" the woman suddenly exclaimed, her voice muffled against Porthos' doublet. She pulled back and looked at Aramis for a few seconds, before spotting her cart. "He even saved my belongings!"

Athos tapped Aramis' face and got no response.

"Is there anything I can do?" the woman asked, mortified that her rescuer had been injured in the attempt.

"A canteen would help," said Athos. "And the black pouch inside the saddlebag of that horse," he said, pointing to Aramis'.

The woman stood and shakily made her way to the animal, fetching both and bringing them over to hand to him.

Athos poured some water over the cut on Aramis' head, glad to see that it was shallow and not bleeding _too_ badly.

The woman looked to the edge of the cliff and was further surprised to see that her horses had not gone over the edge. They were standing not far from it, but the seat that they were still harnessed to had flipped over sideways. If Aramis hadn't grabbed her and jumped off in time, they would've been thrown to their deaths.

A soft moan suddenly filled the air.

"That's it, Aramis," said Porthos. "Time to wake up." He'd removed his blue cloak and placed it under his friend's head for use as a pillow, and he grasped Aramis' shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

A few more seconds passed before Aramis slowly opened his eyes and dazedly blinked up at them. "What…what happened?" he mumbled.

"You just performed a dramatic rescue, and hit your head for your trouble," Athos told him.

Aramis blinked a few more times before he remembered and tried to sit up.

"Whoa, whoa," said Porthos, putting a hand on his chest to keep him flat. "Not so fast. The girl is fine."

Aramis spotted the woman standing nearby watching them, and he closed his eyes with a relieved sigh.

"Are you concussed?" Athos asked.

Aramis reopened his eyes and assessed himself for a moment. "I don't believe so. How long was I out?"

"Seven or eight minutes," Athos told him.

Aramis held up a gloved hand. "Help me sit up?"

Athos took it and pulled, while Porthos moved his hand to Aramis' back, ensuring that he wouldn't collapse backwards again.

Once sitting, Aramis winced and closed his eyes as pain spread through his head, making him accidentally squeeze Athos' hand in reaction to it. He raised his other hand to touch the wound, and Athos quickly stuck the handkerchief into his glove before he reached it. Aramis held the cloth over the cut for several seconds before pulling it away to check the bleeding. He was glad to see that it wasn't bad. "It could've been worse," Aramis said.

The other two agreed, and once Athos was sure that Aramis wouldn't pass out, he let go of his hand.

Aramis looked up at the woman who was standing behind Athos. "Hello," he said. "I don't think we've been properly introduced."

"Clara Claiborne," she said. "I was on my way to Paris." The wind blew her dark hair into her face and she realized that she'd lost some hairpins after their jump from the cart. She quickly pushed her hair behind her ears before kneeling beside Athos, who was wrapping a bandage around Aramis' head. "You saved my life…how can I ever thank you?"

"By getting a different pair of horses," Aramis said. "I can't guarantee that I'll be there next time if this happens again." He smiled, even though talking wasn't agreeing with his headache.

Clara nervously smiled back.

"Are you able to ride?" Athos asked Aramis.

Aramis sighed. Riding was never enjoyable with a headache, but he said, "Yes."

His two friends both helped him to his feet, holding onto him tightly when Aramis winced and held a hand to his head.

"Perhaps you should ride in the back of my cart?" Clara said.

Aramis gave her a smile. "That won't be necessary, I assure you I'm fine."

Clara nodded, looking unsure.

Porthos retrieved her horses and reattached them to the cart, and within minutes, they were back on their way.

They rode slowly, in deference to Aramis' headache, and Clara told them about herself; that she had been hired as the tutor of a nobleman's children. "But I didn't expect to nearly get killed along the way," she said, looking at Aramis.

Aramis had closed his eyes against his headache, but opened them when he felt her eyes on him.

"You poor dear," she said. "I'm very sorry that you were hurt."

Aramis smiled. "It's nothing compared to what I'm used to!"

At her questioning glance, he told her that they were musketeers. His head was aching too much to continue talking, so Porthos answered Clara's questions.

Just when Aramis thought that his head couldn't take the sound of voices anymore, they arrived in Paris.

"Thank you for saving my life, Aramis," said Clara. She leaned over in her cart and kissed him on the cheek. "I hope your head heals quickly."

Aramis smiled. "I'll be fine, and there's no need to thank me. I was in the right place at the right time and would never ignore a damsel in distress."

Clara smiled, and turned down the road towards her new home.

The musketeers rode on to the garrison, and after Treville spotted the bandage around Aramis' head and dragged the story out of them, he sent Aramis to rest. His friends stayed with him, naturally, in case his condition worsened, but Aramis was correct that he did not have a concussion and made it through the night just fine.

The next day, Aramis eventually got out of bed and leaned on the rail outside looking down at the goings-on. Athos and Porthos were helping to train new recruits, and Aramis was surprised to see Serge suddenly walk through the gate leading two horses.

Two very _familiar_ horses.

"Captain Treville!" Serge said, leading them over to him. "I went to market to get some potatoes for tonight's stew, and there was a woman there sellin' these two horses…you won't believe how cheap I got 'em for! She practically gave 'em away!"

Athos and Porthos looked up towards Aramis' room, and found their friend looking down at them. Porthos pointed at the horses, as if Aramis hadn't seen them.

Aramis carefully shook his aching head with a smile. At least Clara had listened to him and sold them…but he never thought that they would end up in the musketeer garrison! Dropping his chin into one hand, Aramis couldn't stop himself from chuckling.

THE END


End file.
